You Have To Say It Right
by pirateoftherings
Summary: Did he love her? He wasn’t sure. Respected her, yes. Feared her, certainly. But love? Being perfectly honest, Ragetti had to admit that he had no idea what it meant to experience love. Not from a flesh and blood person, leastways.


**A/N:** And from the depths hath emerged...a pirateoftherings! --fanfare-- Okay, seriously I feel SO terrible about not uploading (or --cough-- updating) anything in so long, but I promise it's not _entirely_ my fault. School decided that the writing of fanfics is not a suitable passtime, and thus began working quite diligently to keep me away from said activity with truckloads of homework. Sadly, it is good grades, not fanfics, that will pay for my college, so the latter sort of went by the wayside for a time, as it were. Then came the end of school (and AWE!), and along came mission trips and youth camps and the like. So, long story short, I'm finally back, and though I do have a job that leaves me with about the same hours as school, the job (unlike school) does not leave me with homework, so there should be much more AWE-inspired fanficcy goodness forthcoming.

For the poor, poor remaining readers of "Adequate," I promise you I'm not done with that story yet, despite all appearances. I'd intended to break my involuntary sabbatical with a new chapter, but this little drabble had to be written for a contest first, so I figured I'd go ahead and make my apologies with it. Give it a week, maybe two, keep a weather eye open, and you shall see a new chapter on the horizon.

(On a more personal/fanatical note, AWE was AMAZING! Have seen three times, shall see many more.)

**Disclaimer:** --clears throat, reads off card-- I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean or any of its characters, dialogue, plot, props, costumes, sets, actors, writers, directors, composers, extras, lighting technicians, caterers, etc. Coming within 100 feet of any of the aforementioned entities will result in a sentence up to but not exceeding one year of solitary confinement, followed by six months of rehabilitation. The Mouse owns all.

* * *

To tell the truth, Ragetti wasn't exactly sure what it meant to be loved by someone else. Oh, he'd heard it spoken of often enough, but to the extent of his knowledge, he didn't have any personal experience in the matter. Family was certainly not an option. His dad was out of the picture- or rather, never in the picture to begin with. His mum had always been too busy conducting "business" to be bothered with the unfortunate results of one such night of "business." Even his Uncle Pintel, who was the closest Ragetti came to having someone who actually cared a whit about what happened to him, made a point of regularly informing the scrawny misfit of a pirate precisely how much of an imposition he was and precisely how little he had going on in that vacant head of his. Outside of family, he supposed there had been a few women here and there who, under the influence of much alcohol and a full purse, had expressed a sentiment something like love, but he couldn't bring himself to believe that counted. No…being perfectly honest, Ragetti had to admit that he knew nothing of what it meant to be loved. Not by a flesh-and-blood person, leastways. 

There was always _her_. He'd known from the moment that he'd first laid eyes on _her_ that he could love no other. She was an enigma, an intangibly complex lover. She was fiercely possessive, and yet indescribably liberating. She was at once tender and brutal, passionate and distant. And she was always, always fickle.

He could recall many occasions when he had fought her all day as he struggled against her violent attempts to kill him, only to collapse into his hammock at night and let his weary body be lulled into sleep by her gentle rocking. He had been deafened by her thunderous roar and soothed by her softest lullaby. He'd been bruised and bloodied by her buffeting blows, and he'd been healed by a touch more intimate than any kiss. He'd cursed her for taking yet another mate, and he'd wept for joy upon being reunited with her once more.

Did he love her? He wasn't sure. Respected her, yes. Feared her, certainly. But love? That, he didn't know. All he knew was that she stirred something deep within him that no other being did, inspired him to be something greater than he could ever be, and held his heart in a way that no one else could ever hope to compare to. If that was love, then yes, he loved her. He loved her most ardently.

But anyway, whatever love was, he was fairly certain it was _not_ whatever Captain Barbossa had just attempted.

"You didn't say it right."

All eyes fell on him. He shrank back instinctively, cowed by their piercing gazes. Not that he blamed them. _He_ would have stared at himself, were it humanly possible. His outburst was so abrupt, so unexpected, he hadn't even been aware that he'd said it out loud.

His instincts screamed to shut up, to duck his head and fade back into the background as he'd done so many times before. But no. This was important. This had to be said. "You have to say it right," he repeated defensively.

Slowly, tentatively, he moved forward. He couldn't bring himself to look into the eyes of the woman before him, so mysterious, so powerful, the very embodiment of the sea. He brought up a shaky hand to brush back the hair from her ear. Drawing a deep breath and thinking of every encounter -every touch, every whisper, every wound, every kiss-, he leaned forward and whispered the words that seemed to resonate from his very soul:

"Calypso, I release you from your human bonds."


End file.
